


hell is really cold (it's detention. detention is hell)

by everyrise



Series: this is a train wreck but i'm missing five days of homework so just... deal with it yourself [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attempt at Humor, Basically they all end up in detention and argue, Crack Treated Seriously, Family Dynamics, Gen, No beta we die like Dream against Techno, Swearing, That's it, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyrise/pseuds/everyrise
Summary: Yep. It was official.Techno did not like Mrs. Michael.Mrs. Michael was mean. She was loud. She—“Detention!” she practically screamed at Techno, was screaming, had screamed herself hoarse the second she found him bloodied and bruised in the back next to a boy with a broken nose.• • • • • • • •• • • • • • • •Or, Techno gets in a fight with Dream, Dream gets off scotch-free, Sapnap is dragged into punishment, Wilbur is totally not a serial killer, and Tommy just wanted to prank his friends.Hopefully the school doesn't burn down while they're in detention. At least it's raining outside.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: this is a train wreck but i'm missing five days of homework so just... deal with it yourself [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987402
Comments: 14
Kudos: 620





	hell is really cold (it's detention. detention is hell)

Yep. It was official.

Techno did not like Mrs. Michael.

He's always harbored negative feelings towards the thorny small teacher with a nose that always seemed to jut towards the sky since the moment he first stepped into her freshmen geometry class, but this was the final straw. She wasn't even supposed to _be_ at school today, information his youngest brother had so gleefully shared, yet here she stood with her wrinkled white skirt, butterfly blue blouse, and an expression that would make the trees tremble.

If only she had gone to the dentist.

Mrs. Michael was mean. She was loud. She—

“Detention!” she practically screamed at Techno, was screaming, had screamed herself hoarse the second she found him bloodied and bruised in the back next to a boy with a broken nose. The frost-tipped (and dusted with red from when Techno had collided painfully with the ground but that's besides the point) winter grass gave a sad crunch and flattened itself to the earth as she stomped over it, the sky an ugly gray. A cold breeze nipped at the drying liquid on his cheek, annoying him to the point of rubbing it away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and smearing blood across his cheek.

He probably looked great. At least his hoodie was already crimson.

Man, today was _great_. Just _great_. An eighty-five on his calculus test (which was one of the better grades in the class, but it pissed him off that he missed some of the simpler questions), a bleeding nose (he didn’t mind the injury, per say, he _had_ provoked the fight, although he had been hoping to remain relatively unscathed), and to put the cherry on top of this rainy dark day he was gonna be stuck for forty minutes with _Sapnap_ of all people.

Phil was gonna kill him. Wilbur too, maybe; Techno had the keys and was supposed to drive him to the mall after school. 

It hadn’t been his fault. Well, totally his fault. Dream was down to fight too, and a majority of the clubs didn’t approve of ‘violence to the point of bleeding’. It was a… friendly thing. Between friends. For fun. And it wasn’t even Techno’s fault he broke Dream’s nose; a slippery ground led to jerky movements and a spill that ended with his fist in the other boy’s face. Dream was probably the lucky one here. Techno knew the other junior didn’t give a shit about the pain. He got to miss out on Mrs. Michael’s scream-fest.

Actually, thinking back, George was the real winner here. He got to take Dream to the hospital (if they were even planning on going there), avoid the screaming, the detention, _and_ he won five bucks. Sapnap was fuming; unable to leave and thus, as a spectator, being swept up in punishment.

At least he wouldn't be stuck in detention alone.

There hadn't been a real reason for the fight. They just kinda wanted to see who would win. No one was actually pissed… except Mrs. Michael.

After slamming the note into the palm of his hand, she spun towards Sapnap and began lecturing him on ‘being responsible’ and ‘not letting friends make bad choices’ blah blah blah he looked ready to shove her into a garbage disposal.

“And I _better_ not see you doing _anything_ like this again, is that clear?” the teacher demanded, attention flickering on both of them now. After mumbling two “yes ma’am” under their breaths, dispelling warm air that evaporated into the atmosphere, she gave a final huff and stalked away.

“Bitch,” Sapnap grumbled as she faded from earshot.

Techno was inclined to agree.

• • • • • • • •  
• • • • • • • •

It was raining by the time they made it to the room.

The halls were dim, eerie, lit only by the faint panels of ceiling light that filtered artificial sunlight down below. Through the windows, clouds had darkened past light gray into a dark swirl of thunder and wind, blacking out the world with a trick sheet of rain. With the school’s reliance on the natural shine of the sun to brighten the paths between class came the unforeseen consequence in the form of the darkened halls and heavy shadows.

Despite all that, Techno found the slow lull of rain against the window pleasing. Plus, watching water slide down fogged up glass could provide some form of entertainment to pass the hours. 

“Y’think I could ditch?” Sapnap humed at his right, voice upholding that normal cheerful tone and eyes still bright with sparkles of impish flecks; warm chocolate orbs in the dim light.

Techno didn’t consider the idea. “She probably submitted the report already,” he said flatly; ice pack pressed tightly against the purple ring that now surrounded his eye. Damm, Dream could really pack a punch. Respect.

A low sigh came from the younger boy’s lips, falling silent and pulling his phone from his pocket.

One minute later Techno was throwing the classroom door open and gloomily stepping inside. It was much brighter than the hallways, multiple lamps beaming yellow rays of false happiness in a room that strived to rip students of joy. Lacking occupants, the area was empty, missing teachers and other teenagers alike.

Except, wait, in the corner, a figure looking half-asleep, a guitar case propped against the wall, familiar curly brown hair sticking out of an ebony beanie—

“Wilbur?” Techno asked incredulously.

It was indeed his younger brother (“by six _months_ ” Wilbur would gripe whenever referred to as that by someone), leaning against the chair with feet stretched under the desk, black jacket slipping haphazardly down his shoulders and revealing a crimson jumper that proudly displayed their school name. He blinked, narrowing in on the stranger at the door calling his name (literally could be anyone, practically _everyone_ knew who Wilbur was, it was quite annoying at moments) until a cheeky grin stretched across his features as he finally recognized his beat-up brother

“Techno!” Wilbur chirped back, seat squeaking with effort as he sat up. “I heard Dream beat you up!”

“If you count getting one hit on me and ending up in the hospital _beating me up_ then yeah,” he grumbled, crossing the floor and plopping in the open spot next to the musician. Techno expected the smile to stretch wider but instead of smugness, confusion littered Wilbur’s gaze.

“Hospital?” Wilbur echoed. “I thought he was at the mall?”

Sapnap coughed. “Uh, sorry, _where_ did he say he was?” The black-haired boy was standing at the door, right brow raised. 

A shrug graced the junior’s shoulders. “Niki said she ran into them at the food court.” He gave a dry laugh. “Had to tell her I’d be late. You should have told me you were gonna be here too, Techno. I would have blamed you.”

“You're hilarious,” he deadpanned, but his words were drowned out by Sapnap slamming his backpack against the table across the room with an angry loud thud, wincing at the resounding bang. 

“Those assholes lied to Mrs. Michael,” the smallest of the three mumbled, pout evident on his face. 

“Awh, poor Sapnap is stuck in detention,” Wilbur mocked, propping his elbows on the wood to rest his face in his palms. His cheeks were tinted with a faint rosy blush, courtesy of the harsh air conditioner that seemed determined to freeze this hell over. How long had Wilbur been in here? 

Sapnap grumbled. “He could have taken _me_ instead of George. I’m the one with the Chick-fil-A coupons.” He slid into the chair, not wasting a second to even adjust his jacket before shoving his nose down at his screen. Techno caught glimpse of the message app and Dream’s contact photo before his attention was drawn back to his brother.

“Why are you here?” It was less of a question and more of a demand. Although he wasn't entirely convinced Wilbur wasn't a mass murderer, he probably hadn't killed anyone (something tells him that’d result in jail time, not a detention) and he couldn't really imagine ‘Mr. Popular’ pissing off a teacher enough to warrant the school's version of a prison sentence. 

Wilbur shifted his face into one hand and lifted the other, waving it once in dismissal. “I blackmailed the stage manager since he was being a whiny bitch and he saw...” he hesitated, “... _something,_ but apparently Eret found out and reported me to the director. Dumbass. I give him a week.” There was no elaboration to that ominous conclusion. The musician smiled softly, brown eyes cold as the rain that raged outside.

Techno blinked. And he thought _he_ was scary. Sure, he was smarter and stronger than the other (Wilbur wouldn't object to that… probably. It was basically fact at this point) but wow, his influence at the school was crazy. And if Techno had to guess one person in the building to be a serial killer, well, the smug boy in the beanie would probably be his first choice. 

Dream would be second. Or maybe Skeppy. Skeppy could probably just be loud and someone would die of annoyance. His friends were special like that.

“That's…” Techno started, then hesitated. “Isn’t that Tubbo’s brother?”

Wilbur’s expression shifted from devilish to uncertain. “Oh. Right,” he paused, adding, “I’ll figure something else out” (which only added to the evidence Wil was planning a murder). 

“...Like what?”

Wilbur brightened. “I’m glad you asked. Hey Sapnap—”

“No.”

“You should be more like George. George would have helped.”

“ _George_ should be here, I swear to God if they don't pick me up some Chick-fil-A sauce—”

“So you won the fight? Why were you fighting?” Wilbur spoke over Sapnap’s mumbling like it was nothing, focusing back on the pink-haired junior.

Techno shrugged, fingers playing drums with the table. There hadn't really been a winner. Dream would say him, maybe, or at least a tie. Still, the broken nose said otherwise in Techno’s humble opinion. “I won. We wanted to see who’d win.”

Wilbur made a face. “For fun? That's boring.” 

“Yeah, well, at least I don't—”

“This is bullshit, Tubbo!” 

The door was thrown open with enough force to shut Techno up and to distract Sapnap from his spree of furious typing, even though he quickly resumed. Two figures stood arguing in the metal frame; a blonde hair boy who was being very _loud_ and the smaller brunet with a mild expression of annoyance. “This is the worst fuc—”

“I told you it was a bad idea,” Tubbo cut in, clad in a long-sleeve button up and clutching a white binder to his chest. “You should have listened.”

“It was _not_ a bad idea, Purpled is just a _bitch_ —”

Techno felt his eyes widening as he stared at the two at the door. Oh great. All three of them were here. Frankly, it wasn't a surprise the youngest had ended up here too but the timing was something. Judging by Wilbur’s silence, he was either just as surprised or attempting to fathom up a creative insult.

“All your ideas are bad, Tommy,” Wilbur said cheerfully. “You should try listening to Tubbo more often.” 

The freshmen startled, head snapping in the direction of his older brother’s voice. His face grew shocked. “Wilbur? _Techno?_ ”

“I’m here, too,” Sapnap chimed. 

“Shut up, bitch boy. Why the hell are you guys here?” Tubbo gave an awkward wave goodbye that only Techno returned, footsteps echoing down the hall. Whatever Tommy had done, at least Tubbo didn't suffer for it. Sapnap would be jealous.

“Long story, I’m sure Techno would _love_ to explain—”

Techno slammed his face against the desk. “No.”

Tommy blinked.

The storm outside was picking up, hurling branches and large droplets against the transparent materials. They’d be at the mall by now, had they left when class ended like they were _supposed_ to. With the luck he’d been having there’d be a tornado warning and the four of them would be stuck in this room for another five hours.

“This is stupid.”

“You're stupid.”

“Shut up, Sapnap.”

“Sorry, I don't listen to children.”

“Says the sophomore,” Wilbur interjected, tearing a piece of paper from the notebook in his lap and crumbling it to a ball. It soared across the room, hitting Sapnap square in the head. Tommy laughed.

Techno sighed.

Forty minutes of hell in this frozen wasteland with a thunder storm, bickering brothers, and a Sapnap. Great. He should have let Dream break his nose.

**Author's Note:**

> woo thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> this is my first fic for this fandom and honestly i think it's really bad. i'm most definitely not a fluff kinda person, every other draft i have is angst. i'm way better at description and emotions than dialouge and high school aus but i had an idea and i really needed to practice something new. 
> 
> stick around for more! i've got plenty of ideas and hopefully i feel motivated to finish all my other drafts c:


End file.
